


feeling as good as lovers can

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (if you can call it that), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Credence Barebone, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, M/M, Nude Photos, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sexting, Sub Original Percival Graves, Teasing, actual D/s this time for real, no really, oh god I hope I got it right, seriously guys this is So Soft, this is probably cheesy af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Graves is at work when he gets the first text. It’s an innocent one, just Credence in a loose, silky tank top, looking up at the camera through wide eyes.Don’t touch yourself,the caption reads. It’s an odd request. Credence is lovely, yes, but Graves is hardly about to jerk off over such an innocuous photo...Oh, if only he'd known.DAY 3 of KinktoberWritten for prompts:Creampie| Nudes |Hate-fucking| Orgasm Delay/Denial
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Fantastic Beasts and where to find them





	feeling as good as lovers can

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous af about this one guys, not gonna even pretend.
> 
> This is the first time I've written legit D/s instead of pain kink, so. Pleeeeeease go easy on me in the comments.
> 
> Thanks to inb4invert and to my beta RJ for answering my four thousand questions on D/s dynamics (and, in the case of the latter, weathering my oh-god-this-isn't-good-enough-for-AO3 freakout).

Graves is at work when he gets the first text. It’s an innocent one, just Credence in a loose, silky tank top, looking up at the camera through wide eyes. **Don’t touch yourself,** the caption reads. It’s an odd request. Credence is lovely, yes, but Graves is hardly about to jerk off over such an innocuous photo.

But then the next one comes an hour later. Credence is shirtless and wearing the diamond choker Graves bought him for his last birthday, lips pushed out into the most tenderly seductive pout. **I miss you so much, angel.** Oh God. Graves’ knees go weak at the sight, at the _name_ —it’s what he calls Graves when they’re _alone,_ and—yeah. Okay. Now he’s a little hot and bothered.

Credence sends him another text during a meeting. He’s lying in their bed, naked but for a blanket draped over his hips. Graves actually yelps when he sees the photo, then when his co-workers look at him, concerned, he sputters something about a note from his accountant, higher taxes than expected. Red-faced, he shoves his phone back in his pocket, his cock throbbing…but not before he catches sight of the text. **Remember, now…no touching yourself at work.**

Graves is so hard he almost can’t breathe. Every time he manages to calm himself down, the mental image of Credence spread out in their bed pops back into his head and he’s gone. The meeting may as well have taken place without him; he hasn’t contributed a damn thing, not surprising given that he doesn’t think a single drop of blood has gotten to his brain cells since he got that text.

Just as he’s getting back to his desk, he gets another text. The best for last, apparently: Credence has somehow gotten his entire body in the frame. The bed is scattered with rose petals, and there are candles flickering on the nightstand. Credence is wearing bright red lipstick, the diamond choker…and nothing else. **If you touch yourself before you come home, angel, I’ll be *very* unhappy.**

Graves chokes. But before he can process and digest _that,_ another text comes through: Credence sitting on the edge of their bed, legs spread, lovely cock on full display. **But if you’re good, *this* is what’s waiting for you.**

Oh, that’s just not fair. Graves can’t stifle a moan. The urge to rush into the bathroom and take care of his not-so-little problem is so intense it nearly makes him hyperventilate; his heart won’t stop racing, he’s so hard he’s literally dizzy and he can feel beads of sweat popping out on his forehead the longer he looks at the photo. His breath comes short for a moment and, oh, this is just _too much—_

He almost texts back a single word: _Panic._ If he sends the text, Credence will know what it means and he will stop. Before he can send the message, however, Credence beats him to the draw. **Checkpoint?**

Graves sinks down into his chair and exhales in relief. Credence always _knows._ He gives himself a moment to sit there, eyes closed, taking rhythmic deep breaths until his heart slows and, mercifully, the rest of his body calms down as well. **All clear,** he tells Credence, who responds with a string of happy-face emojis.

When the workday is over, Graves manages to stay relatively calm as he makes his way to their apartment. But then he gets inside and pushes open the door to their bedroom, and anything resembling _calm_ flies out the window.

Credence is waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed, knees apart. Graves throws down his briefcase and jacket and practically swan-dives across the room in his haste to get to Credence. He kneels between Credence’s legs, his head automatically pillowing itself on Credence’s thigh. His hands go to his own knees, holding on tight so he won’t slip up and touch without permission. His eyes fall closed and, for the first time all day, he can relax.

Credence’s fingers comb through and muss his hair, sending little tremors of pleasure dripping down the back of Graves’ neck. “I take it you got all my messages?” he says, and Graves nods, shivering a little at the memory of said messages. “Mmm. Good. I thought you’d appreciate a little reminder of what was waiting for you at home. Were you good for me? Did you do as I asked?”

“Uhh. Mm-hmm. Didn’t touch. Really wanted to, though.” Graves manages to raise his head and catches the sight of Credence’s dark eyes going even darker. Another jolt of arousal pulses through him. At this rate he won’t _have_ to touch; Credence is going to shock him into orgasm through looks and words alone.

“I’ll bet you did.” Credence withdraws his hand from Graves’ hair, making Graves whine a little at the loss. He scoots back on the bed and widens his legs. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind too much…”

Graves doesn’t mind a single bit. He leans forward, lips parted, and can’t stop a moan from escaping as Credence slides into his mouth, the weight of the thick, heavy cock firm and soothing against his tongue.

He’s always heard people frame this act in terms of _giving_ —as in, _giving_ oral, _giving_ a blowjob. But to him it feels more like receiving a gift, every noise of pleasure he pulls from Credence sating some unnamed, desperate ache deep inside of him. He sucks harder, bobs his head faster, almost frantic with the need to make Credence feel good. He pulls back just enough to get his tongue on the head, to tease more pulses of pre-come out of that pretty cock, to make Credence thrust into his mouth. 

When Credence finally comes, Graves swallows down the seed like he’s starving. “Thank you, Credence,” he rasps when he lets the softening cock slip from his lips. “Oh, thank you, _thank you.”_

Credence, much to Graves’ delight, needs a moment to get his breath back. When he recovers he says, “Mmm, thank _you._ That was _great._ Perfect. You did so well, angel.” Graves can’t help but preen a little at the praise. “Now, get up and take the rest of your clothes off,” Credence orders.

Graves does as he’s told, heat rushing through him as Credence openly licks his lips while he watches him undress. At Credence’s command he crawls into bed and lies back, whining softly as Credence strokes down his chest and caresses his belly, nice and slow, and then drags a gentle hand across the sensitive inside of his thigh before he moves back up, pausing to carefully flick his thumb over Graves’ already-hard nipple.

“Please,” Graves hears himself whimper as little tremors of pleasure spark across his skin, everywhere Credence has touched. “Oh, sweetheart, I need— _please—”_

“Mmm, what was that?” Credence playfully tweaks the other nipple. “What did you just say?”

Right, he almost forgot. He’s not allowed to use pet names when they…do this. “Credence. Please. I need—you’re making me so—”

“Sh-h-h. I know…you’re so turned on, I can see it…but you need to trust me. Just relax and let it happen, can you do that for me?”

 _Anything,_ Graves thinks deliriously as Credence flips open the cap on a bottle of lube and slicks up his fingers. _I’ll do anything for him. God, he’s so beautiful…_

The sensation of Credence’s wet fingertips just barely caressing his aching length makes Graves melt a little more. “Oh God,” he breathes quietly, back arching in a silent plea as Credence slowly, delicately strokes up and down his dripping cock.

“Sh-h-h…almost there, now…just relax.” Credence withdraws and strokes the inside of his thighs, fingertips gently running down to caress the back of Graves’ knee so lightly it tickles. Graves whines, so aroused he’s nearly catatonic, as Credence slowly works his way back up…only to completely bypass his cock and instead move his fingers butterfly-quick across Graves’ belly.

It’s pleasurable torture. Graves is leaking like a broken faucet, his cock so hard it could hammer nails, and he is absolutely _helpless._ “Please,” he gasps, whining in disappointment when Credence comes _that close_ to touching his cock and, instead, traces his slick fingers over the edge of his hip instead. “Please, Credence, please, I need to come, please let me come—”

“Relax,” Credence urges softly, running his hands down Graves’ chest and just barely tweaking his nipples again. “I’m not done yet, angel. Relax, and let me touch you.” He continues those soft, teasing strokes, fingertips lightly caressing the insides of Graves’ thighs until he squirms. “Mm, I know…feels so nice, doesn’t it?” He runs a fingertip down the length of Graves’ swollen cock, tracing feathery, ticklish circles around the head.

“Credence, please, _please—”_

“Hold on…just hold on for me a little longer, angel…”

“I can’t, oh God, I _can’t,_ please let me—”

Credence, damn him, stops and waits until Graves has managed to suck in a few gulps of air and has (mostly) stopped shaking. “Okay? Checkpoint?” he says, one hand resting on Graves’ belly again, the pressure firm and comforting.

Graves nods and draws in another sharp breath. “I’m—yeah. Clear. All clear.” He wants to ask, _how long are you going to do this to me?_ but knows that if he does, Credence will just drag it out longer.

“Mmm…okay, then.” Credence leans down and presses a kiss to his belly button. Graves whines, and Credence laughs, soft breath tickling his skin. He kisses a slow, steady trail down, lips brushing feather-light against the most sensitive patches of skin he can find. Graves is squirming and desperate again in seconds. He really hopes that Credence does not expect him to be able to hold back if his mouth touches Graves’ cock. The minute that happens, it’s over.

Credence licks up some of the slick, salty fluid that has dripped onto Graves’ thigh and hums in satisfaction. Graves squirms again, squeezes his eyes shut and tries, with increasing desperation, to think about something other than how good it would feel to come.

He feels something wet touch the sensitive tip of his cock and he _yelps,_ hips twitching involuntarily, and looks down just in time to see Credence looking up at him through seductive, feline eyes. His own eyes roll up and he lets out an actual sob as Credence finally, _finally_ wraps a warm, lube-slick hand around him and says tenderly, “Okay, angel. You can let go.”

And oh, he _does._

To say the pleasure is overwhelming would be a breathtaking understatement. Graves knows what an orgasm feels like, has had plenty of them over the years, but this…this is _magic._ It feels like the blood in his veins has been replaced with stardust. The physical sensation alone is enough to suck the air from his lungs and make him feel wonderfully disoriented, but there’s an emotional catharsis to this that he can’t describe. Like every bad feeling he’s ever had is just gone, replaced by the kind of unfettered joy that only Credence can bring him.

He sighs contentedly as the waves of pleasure finally ebb away and he lies there, spent and fully, blissfully exhausted. Oh, there it is…he loves this part, this soft, floaty feeling he gets when Credence has made him feel so good he can’t think anymore, when he’s so strung-out on pleasure that nothing else matters.

“There, I’ve got you,” he hears Credence say, one hand tenderly brushing Graves’ sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “Do you feel better now, love?”

“Mmmm.” Graves knows he needs to talk, needs to say something to let Credence know he’s all right, but all he can manage is a kind of satisfied grunt. But it seems to be enough, because Credence slides an arm under his shoulders and draws him in close, letting his head fall against Credence’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat. It’s his favorite “recovery” position, and Credence knows it.

It takes a while for the world to right itself. Eventually Graves gets enough of his voice back to say, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Credence gives him a gentle squeeze. “You’re sure you’re all right? I didn’t tease you too long, did I?”

“Oh God. I thought you were going to kill me,” Graves admits candidly, unable to hold back a weak laugh. “But no. You were amazing. Don’t think I’ll be able to get out of bed for the rest of the night, but. Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Good. Do you need anything right now? Thirsty? Cold? Need a shower?”

“Not now. Just hold me, please.”

“You got it.” Credence rolls them over so that he’s lying back with Graves’ head pillowed on his chest. “I love seeing you fall apart like that,” he sighs dreamily. “Love to watch you just…let go.” He rubs Graves’ back in slow, soothing circles. “And I love that you trust me to get you there.”

“I’d trust no one else, sweetheart.” Graves lets his eyes fall closed, lets himself melt even further into Credence’s embrace. 

He loves this, God how he loves this. At work, or even just with the rest of their friends, he has to take charge, be the strong one. Everyone expects him to be smart and tough and commanding, and he is, and most of the time, that’s absolutely fine. But Credence…Credence lets him be vulnerable, lets him _rest._ He can’t have that with anyone else. And honestly…well, like he said, he wouldn’t want to.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words going from his lips straight to Credence’s heart. He feels the answering squeeze, a reassuring hand in his hair and a thin, strong arm tight around his shoulders, and his last thought before his exhaustion drags him into sleep is that he is so, _so_ lucky to be loved like this.


End file.
